The moment Su Su’s figure appeared near the rockery, not even fully stepping out from the bamboo-lined path, Shen Gaoyi’s trained eyes had already caught sight of her.
He stood outside the pavilion, eyes scanning all directions, ears attuned to every sound that was his duty. More importantly, from the moment Consort Su entered this area, the corner of his eye had keenly detected a subtle movement in the emperor’s gaze originally cast upon Wan Pin, or perhaps into empty space that was nearly imperceptible. Although the emperor did not turn his head, maintaining his usual posture, Shen Gaoyi knew: the emperor had seen her.
In recent days, the emperor had been busy with state affairs of the previous administration. Though the southwest had been pacified, follow-up tasks such as pacifying the region, rewarding generals, and even the residual undercurrents of the Ning Prince heir case required the emperor’s personal decision. He was practically living in the imperial study and rarely stepped into the harem.
On the rare occasions he did, Shen Gaoyi had often glimpsed him staring at the empty zitan chair once occupied by the late Noble Consort Su. His gaze was complex inquiring, slightly angry, and perhaps even tinged with a subtle, unrecognized feeling of discomfort at the unfamiliarity.
Shen Gaoyi’s mind was clear as a mirror: in the emperor’s heart, there was Consort Su. Yet this feeling, layered with past political considerations, imperial pride, and old grievances, might be something even the emperor himself would hesitate to admit.
Thus, when Shen Gaoyi saw that Su Su, instead of flying toward the emperor as she once would have, now recognized the figures in the pavilion and immediately turned to leave, he thought to himself: This will not do!
He reacted almost instantly. In the past, whenever Consort Su saw the emperor, she would approach with curved brows and abandon, practically clinging to him. But now… the more she saw him, the more she avoided him. If the emperor watched her walk away, any unspoken irritation would surely be vented on them, his servants.
So he called out to her immediately.
Inside the pavilion, Li Qianche had already seen her the moment she appeared.
The early spring sunlight outlined her graceful figure. Compared to the last time he saw her in Cining Palace, she seemed slightly fuller, yet even more rounded and radiant. She wore a pale pink palace robe brighter than her previous plain attire, yet elegant making her skin look even fairer. The once aggressive brilliance in her eyes had been replaced by a calm light, drawing the gaze even more; she stood there like a living spring landscape.
And yet she pretended not to see him and tried to leave?!
This realization sent an unnameable spark of anger through Li Qianche. She really did not want to see him? Where was the impulsive, reckless self that used to rush to him?
“Since you’re here, why hide?” Li Qianche said. His voice was low, but carried the usual cold authority, piercing the not-so-distant space to reach Su Su clearly. “Come over.”
Su Su, with her back to them, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she turned, a polite but utterly cold, faint smile appeared on her face. She walked toward the pavilion with measured, graceful steps, her skirt swaying lightly, each step seemingly calculated.
“Your servant pays respects to the Emperor, and greets Consort Wan,” she said, kneeling to bow. Her posture was flawless, her gaze lowered to the smooth stone floor of the pavilion.
Mu Hanyan had already risen and returned a half-bow with a smile: “Consort Su, there’s no need for such formality.” She observed the woman before her with curiosity. Having entered the palace, she had heard whispers of this once-arrogant and domineering former Noble Consort Su, who had relied on the empress dowager’s favor to dominate the six palaces. But the woman before her was quiet, submissive, even somewhat distant. The contrast with the bold, passionate image from rumors was stark. Was it misinformation or had she truly changed after being demoted?
“Consort Su, you’re here to enjoy the garden as well? What a coincidence,” Mu Hanyan said softly, attempting to ease the slightly tense atmosphere. “The Emperor was just enjoying some newly gifted Yunwu tea and these pastries. If you don’t mind, would you like to join us?” She gestured to the neatly arranged pastries on the stone table.
Only then did Su Su lift her eyes, quickly scanning the table. In that instant, as she came closer to Mu Hanyan, her gaze fell on the still-flat abdomen, and a long-forgotten shock erupted in her mind.
In her previous life, it had been around this time during the plum-viewing banquet! Mu Hanyan had miscarried!
Having indulged in the comfortable, leisurely days of eating and drinking in Changxin Palace, Su Su had completely forgotten this life-or-death matter. Cold sweat soaked through her inner robe.
“Thank you for your kindness, Consort Wan,” Su Su forced herself to stay calm, her voice steady. “I shall not impose, then.” She needed to observe Mu Hanyan and figure out how to avoid the coming storm.
Seeing her respond, Li Qianche said nothing.
Su Su lowered her gaze slightly, glancing past the two people she most wished to avoid at that moment. That faint…
The bright yellow figure was the source of both her obsessive love in a past life and her hatred in this one; even a single extra glance made her chest feel tight and uneasy.
She shifted her steps silently, leaving no trace, and chose a stone bench farthest from Li Qianche and closest to Mu Hanyan. Her heart was cold though this person had enjoyed all of his favor, in her previous life he had never actively tried to take her life. Between two evils, it was most crucial for her, for the moment, to use this spot near her to avoid the one who had truly ordered her death.
She sat down elegantly, gathering her skirts, her back perfectly straight, like a slender bamboo in the wind but from beginning to end, she did not glance at Li Qianche even once.
This deliberate ignoring only increased Li Qianche’s displeasure. From the moment she entered the pavilion, his gaze had repeatedly, intentionally or not, fallen upon her. He looked at her long, thick eyelashes lowered over her eyes, like two small fans casting soft shadows; at her lips, naturally red, slightly pursed either from nervousness or unconscious habit; at her delicate waist and the curves of her figure, which even the loose palace robes could not hide. She was even more beautiful than before, but now her beauty had shed its restlessness and aggressiveness, like a pearl polished with care warm, reserved, radiating a quiet inner glow.
And yet, she deliberately ignored him!
Mu Hanyan pushed a freshly brewed cup of tea toward Su Su and smiled lightly. “Sister, try this tea. It’s said to grow atop the misty peaks of the mountains, yielding only a few taels a year. The taste is mellow and sweet, with a unique charm.”
Su Su picked up the teacup; her fingertips felt slightly cool. She murmured a polite thanks: “Sister, you’ve gone to so much trouble.” She sipped lightly. The tea was indeed fragrant and pure, but her mind was restless, and no tea, however fine, could bring her taste.
“I’ve heard that lately you’ve been recuperating quietly in Changxin Palace, copying Buddhist sutras. Are you still praying for the Empress Dowager and the Emperor?” Mu Hanyan seemed to bring up the topic casually, but in fact, she was carefully testing the waters. She had always felt that this Consort Su was unnaturally calm not displaying the resentment of a fallen consort, nor the calculated charm of someone playing coy.
Su Su set down her cup, eyes lowered, and replied, “I only wish to calm my mind and reflect, seeking inner peace. I dare not presume to pray for the Empress Dowager or the Emperor.” Her tone was flat, betraying no emotion.
“You’re too modest,” Mu Hanyan smiled, then gestured toward a plate of delicate plum blossom-shaped pastries, translucent and glistening. “These are new from the Imperial Kitchen made with last year’s stored plum blossom snow water. Sweet and light, not cloying. Try some.”
“Thank you, Sister.” Su Su picked one up and nibbled gently. The pastry was indeed exquisite, but she had no appetite, constantly feeling as if Li Qianche’s gaze lingered on her, faint but inescapable.
Li Qianche remained silent as he drank his tea, yet his gaze seemed to have its own will, inevitably drifting toward Su Su. He watched her polite but distant exchange with Mu Hanyan, her quiet posture as she ate, the strands of hair occasionally lifted by the wind. She was sitting just a few feet away, yet it felt as though an invisible barrier separated them.
He suddenly recalled the past when she would snatch sweets from his plate, chatter endlessly, and lean against him without care for etiquette. Even if he pushed her away with a cold expression, she would come closer the next time.
Now, she was so obedient, always keeping her distance from him.
The stark contrast pricked him like a fine thorn not deep, but sending a persistent, subtle pain, and… an indescribable sense of loss.
He finally set down his teacup, the clink of porcelain against stone breaking the seemingly harmonious but actually tense atmosphere of the pavilion. He looked at Su Su, his voice low, carrying a barely perceptible strain:
“Consort Su, are these tea and pastries to your taste?”
His sudden question made both Su Su and Mu Hanyan pause slightly.
Su Su had no choice but to lift her eyes and meet his gaze deep, scrutinizing, and carrying an emotion she could not quite understand… annoyance? She felt confused how had she offended him?
“Your Majesty, the tea is fragrant and the pastries sweet both of the finest quality,” she replied, lowering her gaze respectfully, still perfectly proper, yet utterly devoid of life.
Li Qianche stared at her lowered eyes, refusing to meet his, and the nameless fire in his chest burned even hotter.